Last night I dreamt about my Dad and today my grief is grabbing my heart.
In the dream, I driving with him round South of England visiting buildings and looking at art. We were together so happy.
Only in my dream, he was getting more and more ill.
So I took to an B’nB where I know the family. It had a beautiful walled garden, and we joined in with a ruckus family singalong.
Only I saw my Dad get a heart attack, and he died in my arms.
Then I saw a French elderly couple I knew, who said why are you here. When I said with Dad, they said don’t you he died months ago.
And they drove me away.
Now, I don’t usually remember dreams.
But this is the rawness of my grief. This is the joys I had from knowing my Dad. This is the pain of his final illness.
I really miss my Dad – I just know to live full is all I can do.